


Cautionary Tales and Modern Folklore

by SB_Ryan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Fae & Fairies, Folklore, Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SB_Ryan/pseuds/SB_Ryan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Student Helena Troy thought she was in for just another interesting history field trip. She was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As I am incapable of leaving inspiration to live its life peacefully; I have decided to pin this idea down and try my hand at something new. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think (constructively :D). Hopefully you'll enjoy the misadventures of poor history student Helena, who never seems to be able to catch a break.

**Cautionary Tales and Modern Folklore - Professor Abraham Benton**

 

_Good afternoon class,_

_This is a typical cautionary tale from around 500 years ago. I have taken a few liberties in translating the original text into modern English for the purpose of this quick bulletin. This excerpt was taken from a book of popular stories from the time:_

**The Miller’s Daughter**

In the year of our Lord 16—, the group of pilgrims from the most recently-arrived vessel from Calais banded together and struck out on their own in a bid to reach new people and create a place for themselves.

All was well as they followed the Great River north, constant in their belief that a perfect haven was waiting for them at the end of their journey. One day in Autumn, they found that the river they had been following split into three smaller branches; one was broad and slow, meandering across the grassy plain; one was smaller and rocky and lead into a small forest; and the third was so small it was almost unnoticeable as it trailed off into the dark heart of the ancient woods.

The group debated amongst themselves as to which was the best way to go. When no agreement could be made, they turned to their preacher. The preacher was a young man, but a troubled one. His beloved wife had passed away during the journey and he had lost his faith. He instructed them to choose whichever path they thought best and took his faithful hound down the narrowest path. No one followed him, and he was never heard from in our lifetime.  
Most of the group decided to follow the broadest path; reasoning that the way would be easier and they would get to the north more quickly than if they followed the middle river into the trees. The rest of the settlers decided on the middle path and the two new groups bade each other farewell and agreed to meet up on the other side of the woods, should God allow.

The first group travelled north and founded many of the villages we call home today and eventually finished their journey and founded our great City of Paris.

The second group was not so fortunate. Many families numbered among them; chief of which was a Miller, his wife, and his daughter. She did not believe that God had told them to come to the New World and sorely missed the expensive trappings of her old life. As they travelled further into the woods, the more fretful she became. She had seen so many of her friends die on the journey and feared more than anything the thought of losing her father who she was particularly close to.  
One night a Darkling came to her and whispered to her as she slept. He promised her that he could make sure she would be together with her father forever; if only she could prove her worthiness. She asked what must be done and he said:

_Child, you must slay your mother. The spell will only work if your Sire has one person to love and one person only. You must have completed the deed by midnight tomorrow, or all will be for naught._

As a symbol of his promise, the Darkling gave her a ripe peach - a fruit she had not seen in many months and was not seen in this area. When the girl awoke, she found the fragrant peach on the bed beside her.  
Tired of travelling and tired of the fear, the girl ate the peach and took her father’s ax from its place and waited for her mother to return home. That evening, the Miller’s wife began to prepare the family’s meal when she heard her daughter call for her. The mother went to her and asked her daughter:

_What is wrong daughter?_

The girl smiled at her mother and said God had come to her in a dream and said they should pray together and he would show them the way through the woods. Inwardly the mother rejoiced at this news as she had been worried about how withdrawn her daughter had been. She knelt beside her daughter and bowed her head. The Miller’s daughter took her chance and hacked at her mother’s bowed head, her mother screamed, but the girl continued to strike blow after blow, until her mother lay dead on the ground in front of her.

Satisfied that she had completed her part of her pact with the Darkling, she sat and waited. As night fell, her father returned. Seeing that the evening meal had not been prepared, the Miller went to look for his wife and daughter. His daughter called to him and he went to her. When he saw what she had done he was horrified.  
The Miller’s daughter didn’t understand why her father was so upset. Surely he should be happy that what was left of the family could be together forever? She was overcome with a righteous fury – she had achieved what God had promised them in the next world in this lifetime. Why should he judge her? She found herself rising and swung his ax at him, severing his head from his body. As she calmed, she wept over what she had done.

The Darkling came to her again and offered to help her again. He said her father had only been surprised by what he was being offered. He gave her the ability to raise her father from the dead and she controlled him like a puppet from the shows she loved as a child.  
She laughed in glee as her father rose and danced for her. The Darkling smiled and told her the new price she would have to pay. In order for her to remain with her father forever, she would have to sacrifice the lives of the rest of the settlers.

The Miller’s Daughter laughed again and arm-in-arm with her beloved father; they danced through the settlement, laughing as it burned around them.

***

_This is a simple story to give you all a little background information on the area we will be visiting this weekend as part of an extra-credit assignment for your course. Please ensure that you are ready to leave at 6am sharp and be waiting at the car park at the front of the University. A van will be waiting to take us to our drop off point and space is limited, so please only bring what is absolutely necessary._

_Regards,_

_Prof. Benton_


	2. Chapter 2

_This is a simple story to give you all a little background information on the area we will be visiting this weekend as part of an extra-credit assignment for your course. Please ensure that you are ready to leave at 6am sharp and be waiting at the car park at the front of the University. A van will be waiting to take us to our drop off point and space is limited, so please only bring what is absolutely necessary._

_Regards,_

_Prof. Benton_

 

Helena sighed and shut the lid of her laptop with a snap. Frac, one of her ruddy-furred and unkempt-looking Scottish deerhounds looked up at her from his spot at the end of her bed. Fric, his brother, opened his eyes and yawned hugely.

“You’re absolutely right,” she patted her thigh and Frac jumped down and bounded over to her, “you two count as ‘absolutely necessary’.” She grinned and ruffled his ears. Her smile faded when her gaze fell on the tatty, leather-bound book perched on top of her pile of clothes to pack for the field trip to the woods a hundred miles north of their little town of Serenity. Whenever she looked at it, she felt a little uneasy flutter in the pit of her stomach. The sensible part of her was screaming at her that she should hand over the journal to her professor seeing as it appeared to be the journal of the missing priest from the fable of the Miller’s Daughter. 

Helena had fully intended to hand over the journal once she had realised what it was; but a niggling little voice in the back of her head kept making excuses as to why she should keep it for just a little longer. 

She laughed aloud as she pulled her tawny hair into a scruffy ponytail, “I guess I really am my mother’s daughter after all.” She compared herself to a faded snapshot of her parents she kept tucked in the frame of her mirror, more for appearance’s sake, rather than any other reason. Helena often thought that would be the only way she would recognise her parents if they ever came home.

Her mother, Dr Joyce Troy, was an exploratory historian for the British Museum; personally Helena thought that was a fancy term for tomb raider/grave robber. She looked very much like her daughter, tall, fair and verging on lanky at times. She was standing next to a humourless US Naval officer, Helena’s father, Admiral Benjamin Troy. Helena had no idea how her parents had managed to get their minds off their careers for long enough to get married; let alone have a child and emigrate to America.

Although the family had lived in the sleepy town of Serenity for just over a decade, Helena wondered if her parents had ever spent more than two days in their home at a stretch. Fric, having woken up once his napping buddy had abandoned him, ambled past his mistress and attempted to goad his larger brother into their favourite pastime of ‘running up and down the stairs as quickly as possible, while making as much noise as allowed by the limits of dogly ability’.   
Unable to stay mopey around the two daft canines for long, Helena abandoned the journal, its disturbing, wonderful illustrations, and the niggling little flutter in her stomach when she thought of the trip and ran down the stairs to the delight of her companions.

That evening, Helena was moodily picking through the leftover Chinese takeaway from the night before and debating using the last of her week’s allowance to order a pizza instead. 

“What do you think boys?” she leaned her head against the cool enamel of the fridge, “Should I be frugal and nuke these noodles, or splurge on a pepperoni from Luigi’s?”

She looked sidelong at her dogs who whined and lay down on the rug in unison, “Good choice, noodles now, pizza for breakfast.”

Helena tossed the plastic cartons into the microwave, yanked the dial to max and threw herself down on the nearest seat. The journal lay open on the kitchen table and Helena pulled it toward her. The pictures of sprites and other woodland creatures didn’t bother her so much; although many of the images were filled with tiny, hate-filled eyes. She had assumed that as the supposed author was a recently widowed and faithless priest that not all of the entries would be full of sweetness and light.

It was the entries on the demonic spirits he’d been tormented with that disturbed her the most. The distorted, grinning corpses strung up from the trees almost seemed to sway and dance if you looked at them long enough. 

She traced the lines of text that wove around the page, snaking between the drawings, trying to decipher the faded script, “The corpse hagge dances on a pile of bones,” she squinted and rotated the book, “She will forest…forever…search for the ones-” 

The microwave beeped shrilly and she yelped.

**Author's Note:**

> Well. There's the prologue, to help move the story along, I'll be posting chapter 1 today too!
> 
> Please let me know if you'd like to know more :)


End file.
